“Yesterday,” he said. “We were staying in town. She was very upset about the fire. She’d been on the phone most of the morning with the insurance company. I told her to be calm, but she lost it. She took off and said she needed time alone.”
“And you thought she went to the cabin?”
“It’s where she goes from time to time when she needs quiet.”
“Does she need quiet a lot?” Gideon asked.
“More lately.”
“No cell service ensures quiet,” Gideon said.
“The cabin is off the grid completely.”
“When did you decide to drive up to see if your wife was there?”
“After she visited me,” he said, nodding to Joan. “I knew it was a matter of time before the cops blamed us for the fire.”
“And now your cabin has burned,” Joan said quietly.
Gideon tamped down a rush of frustration as he shifted his chair, deliberately dragging the metal feet against the floor. “Go on, Mr. Halpern?”
“I saw the smoke above the trees as I was driving to the cabin,” Darren said quickly. “I floored it and raced toward it. I could see the fire had destroyed the building.”
“Did you go inside?” Gideon asked.
“It was still too hot. I drove back to the nearest landline and called the cops. Look, I’ve been calling my wife for hours, and no answer. I need to find her.”
Gideon sipped his coffee, taking an extra beat to gather his thoughts. “We’re looking for her. But if you don’t mind, I want to circle back to the Beau-T-Shop fire and Lana,” he said.
Darren’s brow furrowed. “What does Lana have to do with this?”
Gideon dropped his voice a fraction, as if he and Darren were allies and confidants. “Turns out she was pregnant.”
“Pregnant. Okay. A couple of the girls in the store have gotten pregnant.”
Darren was tense, but his lower limbs remained still and his hands relaxed. When folks lied, they might be able to control their face and hands, but the lower body had a tendency to shift and move, as if the truth needed to get released somehow.
“She was about eight to ten weeks pregnant,” Gideon said.
“What does that have to do with Jessica or the fires? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
Gideon ignored the question. “Would Jessica have known about the pregnancy?”
“Sure. It’s possible. The ladies in the shop told her things, and they came to her when they were in trouble. Look, if you want to know more about Lana’s life, talk to Nora O’Neil. I think they were friends.”
“Where can I find Nora O’Neil?”
“She lives on the west side of town.” He reached for his phone and pulled up her contact information and then texted it to Gideon. “Call her. She works at Tucker’s Diner.”
His phone dinged with the text. “I’ll talk to her today.” He turned his phone facedown on the table. “Tell me about John Pollock.”
“Who?”
“Pollock. He said he knew you.” Lying was a tool in his arsenal he used whenever necessary.
Darren shrugged. “I have no idea who he is.”
“He lives up in Helena. He told me to tell you to say hi when I saw you.”
“Okay. But I still don’t know the name. Should I?” Darren asked.
“His business burned to the ground last year,” Gideon said.
“What are you saying?”
“Both of you had similar fires and significant insurance coverage.”
“Are you saying I had something to do with any of the fires?”
“Now that you brought it up, did you?”
Darren sat back and held up his hands. “I don’t like the turn of this conversation. You still have not told me about Jessica. Have you found her?”
“We found a body in the cabin,” Gideon said. “We cannot make a visual identification. The medical examiner will have to ID the body.”
Darren raised his fingers to his lips as his eyes widened. “It can’t be Jessica. I just spoke to her yesterday.”
“We have transported the body to the medical examiner and are waiting on Jessica’s dental records.”
“Dental records?” He closed his eyes. “Jesus.”
“You’ll need to stay in town and keep your phone with you,” Gideon said.
He fingered his phone as if it were a lifeline. “Do I need an attorney?”
“That’s your call,” Gideon said, matter of fact.
“You’ve accused me of arson.”
“I have not,” Gideon said. “I’m just gathering facts now.”
“You both think I had something to do with all this.”
“Two women you know are dead,” Gideon said.
“I didn’t kill them!” Darren shouted.
Gideon stood. “I hope not.”
Darren’s gaze shot to Joan, and he pointed at her. “She grilled me yesterday at my office. Is she a cop?”
Gideon tossed a half glance toward Joan. “She’s a detective, and a very good one.”
“Mr. Tucker said you and Lana met at the diner last week,” Joan said.
“I told you she was giving me her notice!” Darren said.
“Did Lana say why she was quitting?” Gideon asked.
Darren stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I have no idea. Girls come and go in this business.”
“Tucker said he saw you and your wife fighting at the diner,” Joan said calmly.
Gideon realized Joan was baiting Halpern. Sometimes it was a smart play to go easy on a witness and other times better to stoke their temper. He decided to let the next few seconds play out before he shut it down.
Darren rose. “Unless I’m under arrest, I’m leaving.”
“You’re not under arrest,” Gideon said.
“Then I’m leaving.” Darren marched out of the conference room, and when he reached the main door, he opened it and then slammed it shut.
“We touched a few nerves,” Joan said with a grin. “The question is, which one lit his fuse?”
Elijah was filled with a restless energy that made it impossible for him to read another word. So he closed his book and started walking. Paying no attention to the time or direction he was headed, he looked up, spotted Joan and Ann’s old street, and made his way to their former address.
Of course, the house had been rebuilt. And by the looks of it, it was an improvement over the last. No doubt it still housed college students, just as it had before.
He closed his eyes, imagining what the old place looked like, but he found the memory shrouded in haze. What was not lost in time was the night he had spent with Ann. He had replayed their lovemaking so many times over the last ten years. He remembered every touch, kiss, taste, and sound.
He had served his sentence and was technically free, but he still remained locked out of Ann’s life. Elijah was no longer a kid who was unsure of himself. He was now a man who knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. It would not be long before he’d find a way to shatter that glass wall keeping Ann and him apart.
“I’m coming, Ann,” he whispered.
As he rounded the corner and walked back to the boardinghouse, footsteps raced up behind him. The hurried, almost frantic sounds had his body tensing as his hands curled into fists. The good thing about prison: you learned to fight, or you got the shit beat out of you.
As he turned, ready to fight, a baseball bat connected with his shoulder. The pain rocketed through his body, but as he struggled to right himself, he was violently shoved off balance and fell to the ground. Experience kicked into high gear, and he reached for the knife in his pocket.
A booted foot connected with his ribs, giving him an opportunity to flick open the switchblade. He wasted no time plunging it into the attacker’s inner thigh. Warm blood on his hand told him he had sliced flesh.
The footsteps immediately retreated, and he looked up to see the man’s hooded face, covered with a black ski mask. The eyes glistened, but he could not identify the man.
Elijah’s ribs jabbed with pain, but he forced himself to stand so he could face his enemy. “Don’t leave. We are just getting started.”
The man took a step back. “Get the fuck out of town.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” This was his home, and he was prepared to kill anyone to prove it.
Confessions of an Arsonist
Burning her pictures gives me some satisfaction.
Too bad it’s not her flesh.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Missoula, Montana
Thursday, September 10, 2020
2:00 p.m.
Joan knew Gideon was annoyed with her as they left the interview room. But considering she’d sensed downright hostility from him just a few days ago, she saw this as progress. Love was not in the cards for them again, but a friendship would definitely be welcome.
“What happened to ‘I’m not going to talk’?” he said.
“I didn’t talk that much. In fact, I was damn near silent.”
Before he could unload his thoughts, his phone rang.
“Detective Bailey.”
His annoyed expression darkened. “We’ll be right there.”
He hung up. “You’re coming with me.”